the magic in the psychologist
by doodlechick12
Summary: The one in which Sweets goes to Hogwarts. AU


The one in which the Bones crew go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

No, really.

This is completely a one-shot unless I decide to make an epilogue where they've all graduated or something.

**Disclaimer: I do not own the book/movie series Harry Potter or the television show Bones.**

* * *

**The Magic in the Psychologist**

Lance Sweets bounced on the balls of his feet with nervous excitement as he walked with the other First Years up to the Great Hall doors and nearly tripped over the hem of his new school robes. The other students around him were milling around nervously except for a few select children that had arrogant sneers upon their lips.

Lance had learned from his textbooks that those were most likely Purebloods – wizards from all wizarding families with hardly an ounce of Muggle blood in their veins. He also read about Half-Bloods (usually a witch or wizard with one magical parent and one muggle one, though children of Muggle Borns and Purebloods were also considered Half-Bloods too) and of course, Muggle Borns, which was self-explanatory.

(Sweets wasn't sure what he was precisely; sometimes he thought he remembered a willowy woman with a whimsical voice and clouded eyes, but that memory was always swept aside for the one of a slim stick of wood in a man's big hand being replaced with a whip.)

In any case, his adoptive mother had been terribly surprised when an owl had swept down in their home one early morning over breakfast a few months ago. His adoptive father had similarly thought that it was just one elaborate prank (which Lance thought was most logical, but was very disappointed at the thought.)

It was a shock to all when a stern looking woman appeared on their doorstep the next day in green robes and pointy hat. She'd pulled out her wand, summoned a chair to her and explained the circumstances.

All of that had led up to the trip to Diagon Alley where Lance had not only bought his First Year books (he'd read them all too quickly; the material wasn't that difficult to understand and he'd been quite bored over the summer break), but also several history books and quite a few over Second Year conceptual material.

He'd learned several things in a minimum amount of time; for instance, the Wizarding War had concluded six years ago with the win of The Battle of Hogwarts, where a wizard called Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord – Voldemort. Also, previously the Greatest Wizard of All Time, Albus Dumbledore, passed on one year preceding.

So there Lance was, nervously standing outside the Great Hall doors twisting with his brand new wand (thirteen inches, Hazel, Unicorn hair core, and surprisingly swishy) in his hands.

Lance's mother had insisted on trimming his curly black hair, which had previously reached down to his collar, now only curled around his ears. He saw another student – a girl taller than him with light brown hair and intelligent eyes – look at him and smile. She waved cheerfully, which Lance gladly returned, if a bit bashfully. She was a girl, after all, and even if they didn't have cooties, the ones at his primary school had taught Lance to be wary of the opposite sex.

A short Professor tottered over to them, his head barely reaching the First Years' shoulders.

"Hello," He squeaked and a number of anxious students tittered and giggled, "I'm Professor Flitwick and I teach Charms class. I'm also the Deputy Headmaster and will be leading you into the Great Hall to be sorted."

The students broke out into panicky mumbled conversations with their peers, though Lance kept his silence only by biting his red lips to keep any sounds escaping. His eyes shot to Professor Flitwick and stayed there, waiting for instruction.

"Now, now, there's nothing to be nervous about," Flitwick admonished quietly, give them a quick quirky grin, "I know some of you have heard some scary things about the sorting, but I promise it's nothing as bad as your older siblings and friends make it out to be. Why, once we had a student who thought he'd have to wrestle a troll! Of all the things . . ."

A few children sighed with relief, for they too had heard from at least one source there would definitely be a giant troll to face.

"Nor will there be a quiz or puzzle or anything of the like," Flitwick continued to placate their fears, "There are four Houses you may be placed in: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. Your House will be your family for your seven years here at Hogwarts, and you are expected to treat each other as such. There is some House rivalry, but any wrongdoings to your peers to and from your House or any other House will not go unpunished.

"Now," Flitwick said cheerfully, clapping his small hands, "Let us go forward and into the Great Hall."

The small Professor led the numerous new witches and wizards into the Great Hall where Lance became speechless. He craned his neck and his big brown eyes widened in amazement to watch the ceiling – it matched the outside exactly! The stars and the moon were out, stark white against the black sky as they glittered brightly.

Around the Great Hall were floating candles and four tables with four distinct colors; it was clear that the four tables represented each house.

Lance spoke aloud without meaning to, "I wonder if you can sit with friends from other Houses."

"I don't know," A sharp, clear voice said to his left and Lance jumped, squeaking softly in momentary fright.

He spun and Lance saw the girl who'd smiled and waved at him.

"Hi," She beamed brightly, "I'm Daisy Wick." Her light brown hair was pulled back into a sleek and professional looking ponytail and her grin was so wide Lance thought it might split her face.

"I'm Lance," He introduced quietly and smiled back.

"What House do you think you'll go into?" Daisy asked, bouncing in excitement, "I'm 99% positive that I will go into Ravenclaw because that's where people go who like to study are and extremely intelligent. I was in gifted classes already in the Muggle School I went to, you see, and I really the science classes they we took and I think I'll be a scientist when I grow up. That's a Muggle occupation, but that's okay because my Dad's dad is a Muggle and he's scientist and he talks about his work all the time. I think dinosaur bones are especially neat – do you think that there's an occupation in the Wizarding World that involves bones and stuff? I mean, I should know because I'm practically a Pureblood, but my parents are pretty boring and work in menial offices at the Ministry, and don't really care about the science community at all."

Lance felt like his eyes were popping out of his skull. How does one person jam so much information in a single breath?

Daisy's eyes were wide as she waited for a response.

"Um, I think I might go into Ravenclaw too," Lance finally said, but said no more as he noticed a stool sitting in the front of the large Hall with an old, battered hat. The Hat's brim opened to the surprise of all of the First Years and it started to sing.

Lance's eyes widened.

When the song was through, Flitwick walked over to the stool and unfolded a long piece of parchment and started to read off names.

Daisy mimed a zipper that she pulled across her lips and turned to pay rapt attention to the sorting.

Lance didn't mind as he let his attention wander around the room. The stern woman who'd come to his home to explain to his parents about magic was sitting as the head of the Professors' table, with an empty seat (presumably Flitwick's) on her left, and a relatively young man on her right. There were numerous other teachers there that Lance had no hope of recognizing, though he knew that several must have been hired in the last six years after the Second War.

Flitwick continued down his list and finally reached Lance's name.

"Sweets, Lance," Flitwick squeaked and Lance broke out in cold sweat as his fingers tightened around his Hazel wood wand. He took a few tentative steps forwards and heard a few chuckles of the older students at his expense.

With the laughter sealing his determination, Lance steeled his nerves and walked up to the stool and sat down. He felt the warn cloth of the raggedy hat slip over his dark curls and his expressive eyes, blocking the sight of the Great Hall from his view. Unable to contain a sigh of relief, Lance felt himself relax a little.

The hat chuckled at him.

Lance stiffened, his spine straightening.

"_No need to be alarmed, Mr. Sweets," The Hat said softly, "I'm just here to Sort you into the House that suits you best and then you'll be on your way, never to hear my voice so intimately in your thoughts ever again."_

Despite himself, Lance relaxed again.

"Thanks," He said aloud, but then frowned, correcting himself.

"_Thanks," He said inside his head and the Hat chortled at him. _

"_Well then, what do we have here . . . ?" The Hat trailed off, leaving Lance a bit nervous._

"_What is it?" He asked anxiously._

"_Oh, nothing bad, nothing bad at all," The Hat assured Lance, "You are unwavering loyal to your friends."_

"_If I had any," Lance mumbled remorsefully._

"_Oh, don't worry about that," The Hat said, "You'll make plenty of friends and the potential is all up here. You're a kind soul . . . you'd do well in Hufflepuff._

"_But . . ."_

"_But what?" Lance asked nervously._

"_You're a very intelligent young man, Lance Sweets," The Hat said, "So very smart. You'd do extremely well in Ravenclaw. I'd even go so far as to say you have the potential to be a genius."_

_Lance felt his face flush red in embarrassment and then thought of the girl that was so excited to go into Ravenclaw._

"_You even have a friend going in there," The Hat mused, but his tone was still indecisive._

Lance shifted on the hard stool and could hear some of the other students start to murmur quietly amongst themselves. Was his sorting truly lasting that long?

"_As smart as you are, Mr. Sweets," The Hat finally said a moment later, "I think what with your past-"_

_Images as clear as if they'd happened yesterday flashed through Lance's mind; multiple foster fathers beating him; his own biological father undoing his belt; the sting of a whip crashing down onto his shoulder blades. . . _

"_Yes there's a bit of a Gryffindor in you, but this sense of _loyalty, patience, honesty, _and _friendliness, _oh yes, I think it'd better be _**Hufflepuff**!"

The last word was shouted out loudly and the sudden noise surprised many students, though the table shrouded in yellow burst into enthusiastic applause, hooting and hollering.

Lance stood and replaced the Sorting Hat onto its stool and started down towards his table. He passed the red and gold House and heard a much larger student mutter, "About time."

The person next to him hissed, "Booth!"

"What?" Booth asked his friend, confused

Lance hurried passed the older student and the entire table to settle into a seat at his new House. The students had black and yellow robes with a pendent of a fierce badger clasped onto the front breast pocket that gleamed brightly. Lance's own robes tingled and when he looked down, he noticed that they'd magically changed to match.

He picked a seat a bit down the table and swung his feet, wishing for a growth spurt so they'd at least scrape the stone floor of the Great Hall. A student next to him, a pretty girl with long curly brown hair, smiled at him kindly.

"I'm Angela Montenegro," She smiled prettily, showing white teeth as she stuck out a manicured hand for Lance to shake.

"Lance Sweets," Lance said and took the hand, shaking gently.

"Yeah," Angela smirked, "I got that."

"So, uh, what year are you in?" Lance mumbled.

"I'm a Fourth Year," Angela said.

"Why are you talking to me, then?" Lance blurted and then clapped his hands to his bright red face. Angela just laughed at his embarrassment, though.

"We at Hufflepuff welcome all of our new Housemates," Angela explained easily, "You'll see; a bunch of people will introduce themselves to you and all of your year mates yet."

Lance nodded quickly, bobbing his head.

"That red and gold table," He said suddenly and twisted in his seat to point, "What are they?"

Angela rolled her eyes, "They're the Gryffindors, and while usually very chivalrous and silly, can be incredibly stupid and danger magnets. I have some friends other there.

"The green table is for Slytherins, who have a pretty bad rep. The old Dark Lord, Voldemort, he came from there a long time ago, as well as most of his Death Eater followers, so people are still pretty scared that the House is evil," Angela rolled her eyes again, making the sharp sliver of fear at her words disappear at her nonchalance, "Then there's Ravenclaw; the smarties and nerds."

"I almost got put into Ravenclaw," Lance murmured.

"Oh?" Angela was genuinely curious, Lance saw. He was skillful at the art of reading people and always knew when someone was lying to him, though he knew from past experience that he himself was a pretty rotten liar.

"Yeah," Lance nodded quickly, "But it also thought about Gryffindor for a quick second too."

"Huh," Angela said thoughtfully, but said no more on the matter and turned back to gossip with her girlfriends.

Lance turned back to the Sorting and noticed a few more students come to the Hufflepuff table, though overall, they'd had a slim turn out that year.

The other Hufflepuff boys in Lane's year included a tall boy with pale blonde hair and a big smile and bright blue eyes; his name was Wendell Bray. The other boy was gangly with brown hair and inquisitive eyes; he introduced himself as Finn Abernathy with an American Southern Twang.

"Just moved here," He explained to them, giving a quick and easy grin.

The only girls were Genny Shaw and a pretty blonde called Hannah Burley. Neither particularly caught Lance's interest, but he smiled when introduced.

After McGonagall gave her speech and everyone finished dinner, Lance followed the Prefects with the four other First Year Hufflepuffs. His eyes remained glued to the walls as they walked to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

They passed the Gryffindors and Lance caught sight of the boy who'd been relieved that his sorting had finally ended its long process. The boy was tall and was certainly not lean, though he was by no means burly. He had an easy smile that he gave to a seemingly uninterested passing Ravenclaw, though Lance caught the girl's hidden smile behind a pale hand.

The Hufflepuffs started moving again then, so Lance hurried along to keep up with them until they reached the Common Room entrance.

They all slipped inside, Lance dutifully memorizing the place the entrance was located, and filed it away in his memory banks. He followed Finn and Wendell up to their dorm room and saw that there were three perfectly made up beds waiting for them.

"I'll take this one, if no one minds," Finn said and headed towards the bed closest to the door, and neither Wendell nor Lance had any objections so neither said anything.

Wendell claimed the window bed, leaving Lance with the one on the opposite wall, closer to Finn's and the front door. His trunk was at the foot of Lance's space, which he quickly dragged up and onto the comforter and started to unload his pajamas and the school things he might need the next day.

"The photographs don't move," An inquisitive voice observed from behind Lance, and the dark headed boy turned his head to see Wendell peering curiously over Lance's shoulder at the few photographs that had spilled out of his trunk.

"Yeah, they're Muggle," Lance explained quickly, his eyes shooting to assess Wendell's reaction; he knew that Muggle and Muggle Born persecution was still alive in their society, even if it was quieter than during the War.

"That's so weird," Was all Wendell said though, cocking his head to the side.

Feeling compelled to say more, Lance said, "The pictures may not move, but have you ever seen a television?"

Wendell wordlessly shook his head and Lance, feeling more in his element, relaxed, "Well, a television is like the moving photographs of the Wizarding World, except they are complex devices and are the result of a century of invention and development. However, the principles remain the same and are very simple.

"A picture is captured by a camera by breaking the image into a series of dots or pixels across the width of the picture. Each string of dots makes up one line of the image. In an HD signal, there are 1920 dots in each line and 1080 lines from top to bottom.

"As each dot is captured, the amount of red, green and blue light is recorded as three numbers. These numbers are sent as a continuous stream of data. When the whole image has been sent, the whole process starts over to deliver the next image. The images are captured 25 or 30 times every second.

"The television receives the stream of data and decodes it into a brightness for each of the three colors in every pixel. There are many other processes that go on alongside this process but the description shows the main principle - Identical to the one used by John Logie Baird in 1925."

Lance finished and smiled, but then realized the dorm room was silent as death. Wendell was gaping and Finn's eyes were a bit wide.

"You sure you're not a Ravenclaw?" Wendell finally asked, "Because that sounds pretty complicated for a First Year."

Lance shrugged, uncomfortable with their stares. "The Hat thought about it."

Wendell and Finn exchanged looks and shrugged to each other.

"At least if we have questions about Muggles, we'll come to you," Finn said, grinning.

Lance returned it. "You could ask me about any of the First Year material; I read a lot over the summer."

Wendell smiled too and said to Finn, "I think we've got a resident genius."

* * *

Lance woke up in the morning, blinking his eyes to clear them. He saw the top of the canopy and felt a brief moment of confusion that was quickly shunted as he heard Finn snuffle in his sleep and turn over. Lance threw his blankets off and jumped to shower and get dressed; it was the first day of classes!

The First Year boys' showers fogged up as Lance quickly sped through washing and tumbled out of the bathroom. He dressed and picked up some of his books and organized them in his over-the-shoulder satchel. Lance's eyes darted over to his year mate who were only just waking up.

"Breakfast is over in twenty minutes," Lance told them, "And then class starts in thirty."

Wendell murmured something sleepily, but Lance was already sprinting down out of the dorms and down the staircase. He slipped through the Common Room to the amusement of some Upper classmen, and darted into the hallway.

Lance started back the way they'd come and found his self at a museum of staircases, stumped, for they'd somehow . . . changed during the night.

"Right; in _Hogwarts: A History_, it says that they stairs change," Lance murmured to himself, remembering the first book he'd read about magic over the summer.

"You lost?" A friendly voice called and Lance turned around, relieved.

An older teenager stood a bit of a ways back in Slytherin green, his curly hair sprouting around his face and blue eyes. He was violating dress code, not wearing the robes, but just his white dress shirt – which was un-tucked – his green Slytherin tie was askew, and he was wearing a black leather jacket over his shirt. It wasn't exactly fashionable; it seemed the boy was trying to prove a point, though Lance was unsure what it was.

"Yeah," The First Year answered, adjusting the strap of his satchel on his shoulder, "I don't know which staircase to use because they've rotated since last night when we walked to the Hufflepuff Common Room."

The boy nodded, as moving staircases was perfectly normal, and inclined his head, "Follow me, munchkin."

Flushing furiously at the name, Lance ducked his face and followed the teenager as he led Lance to a staircase. They went down and made a left and then a right, and then another quick left. The teen stopped and pointed down a hallway.

"Just go straight on from here and you'll make it just in time," He didn't wait for Lance affirm, heading back up towards the Hufflepuff Common Room.

Lance took a breath and walked down the appointed hallway and found himself in front of the Great Hall's majestic doors. He walked through the arch way and located his House table and sat down carefully.

Neither Wendell nor Finn were there yet, but the girls – Genny and Hannah – were, though they were engaged in separate discussions with some Second Years. Lance set his bag down in between his scuffed trainers and set into his breakfast. He kept his eyes on the post, but he had little hope that his parents had written; the magical letter system was still a bit new and it was more than likely if they'd wrote him, Lance's letter ended up Timbuktu somewhere.

However, a little owl, the one that Lance had chosen and bought from the Owl Emporium, skirted around the Great Hall until it located Lance.

The First Year stuck out his arm to the surprise of some other students, and the little speckled brown owl zeroed in on him, sticking its landing on Lance's forearm.

Lance beamed at the little critter and he gently petted it, "That's a good girl. You're so smart, aren't you, Snidget?"

Snidget preened and twittered happily and Lance checked her for any letters.

"Just come for a visit, did you?" Lance asked her when he found none, and Snidget hooted.

A few girls at his table cooed, making him flush.

"She's so little," Genny said from her place across the table, "Can I see her?"

"If she doesn't mind," Lance said warily and he extended his arm. Snidget hopped and half-flew to the girl's arm and nipped her sleeve gently, making Genny giggle.

Lance picked up his fork and continued to eat his food, mindful of the time left set aside for breakfast. Prefects started around, handing out schedules for all of the students and some teachers were meandering down from their platforms to go to their classrooms.

Lance finished up and Snidget flew back to his shoulder to nip him affectionately on ear before flying back to the Owlery. He picked up his bag and glances as his new timetable clutched in his deft fingers.

His first class of the day was DADA with Professor Gordon with Ravenclaws, so Lance headed to the room number indicated on the piece of parchment. He got lost twice, but he asked a few polite portraits where he was and they were kind enough to lead Lance to the correct classroom.

He caught sight of Daisy almost right away and the tall girl beamed at Lance like Christmas had come early.

"Hi, Lance!" She waved him over and Lance complied, walking up to her and sitting in the front row with Daisy.

"So, you're not a Ravenclaw at all," Daisy said almost accusingly and Lance inexplicably felt guilty.

"Sorry," He said, "I almost got put there."

"Oh, it's okay!" Daisy said excitably, "Hufflepuffs are nice too, I'm sure." She beckoned Lance closer and he obliged as the girl lowered her voice to a whisper, "A lot of people say Hufflepuff House is for duffers and the left over people, but they're totally wrong!"

Lance bit his lip. "Right."

The rest of their class filed in as Lance listened to Daisy's chatter, and when everyone was seated, Professor Gordon meandered into the room.

He was grandfatherly in appearance, with his grey hair and almost heavyset frame. His face was genial and creased with laugh lines.

"Hello class, I'm Professor Gordon; but please, call me Gordon Gordon."

* * *

His second class for the day was Potions with Slytherin First Years. Lance walked down by himself, for Wendell and Finn seemed to have hit it off and were excluding most of the rest of the world as they animatedly talked about Wizarding culture that Lance couldn't hope to understand from just reading textbooks and stories.

Daisy had departed as well, latching onto her books and schedules as she went down to next class with the Gryffindors. Her smile and perky chattering had stopped and started with the flow of the class, only really stopping when Gordon Gordon was lecturing.

Lance arrived in the dungeons and took a seat close to the front so he'd have little to no distractions. Other students filed in and Wendell and Finn partnered up; Hannah and Genny did likewise, leaving Lance without a Hufflepuff partner.

There were significantly more Slytherins than there were Hufflepuffs; five boys and six girls. The one boy left out of the cliques seemed unaffected by it all and slid into the only empty seat next to Lance. The boy's hair was floppy and brown, almost hiding brilliant eyes.

Their Professor swept into the room then, a short woman whose face was deceptively happy.

"You just frowned; is there something unsatisfactory about the appearance of our Potions Professor to you?"

Lance turned his head to look at the Slytherin boy next to him and shrugged a bit.

"I'm good a reading people's body language; she doesn't want to be here and most likely doesn't care for children. She's probably in it for the free boarding and the outstanding pay that Hogwarts' teachers accumulate," Lance explained quietly, so as to not let their professor know of his suppositions.

The other boy frowned, "That's all deductive reasoning based on no fact at all. How could you know that?"

Lance shrugged helplessly, and repeated, "I'm just good at reading people, I guess. My reasoning is usually correct, too."

The boy narrowed his eyes and nodded sharply. "I won't take your word for it, but I will watch Professor Taffet for any behavior unusual to teaching professionals."

"Mister Sweets," A sharp voice called out, "Mister Addy. Is there a problem over there?"

"None, Professor Taffet," Addy said, monotone, "We were discussing the probabilities of what you may teach us that I don't already know."

Taffet raised an eyebrow. "Is that so, Mister Addy? And why are you so much smarter than the rest of the class?"

"I have an IQ over that of 163, which if you aren't muggle raised, stands for Intelligence Quotient," Addy told Taffet and Lance felt his own eyebrows rise. Certainly Taffet wouldn't let a student talk to her like that . . .

But Taffet only laughed once, sharply, "Cheeky and smart. I like it. Now, turn to page one hundred and three and read the directions. You'll be making something easy today, to warm you up. Your partners are the people sitting next to you."

Lance turned in his book and found that the potion wouldn't be hard at all.

"I'm Lance Sweets," He turned and introduced himself to the boy next to him.

"Zachary Addy, but people who consider themselves my friends insist upon calling me Zack."

"Nice to meet you, Zack. Is your IQ really over 163?"

* * *

Lance got through his first day of school, which turned into the first, which evolved to the first month. Before he knew it, fall had been ushered out and winter was moving in, puffy grey clouds promising an early snow in November.

He wasn't the most popular and he certainly wouldn't say he had many friends, but Lance was friendly to everyone and mostly made nice acquaintances that mostly came to him because of homework trouble on their ends. Daisy and Zack were on Lance's academic level and were really his only good friends.

Zack was also the only Slytherin that tolerated Lance.

"It will only get worse for you," Zack told him flatly when Lance mentioned he'd been getting weird looks from the other Slytherins.

"But why?" Lance asked, puzzled.

"They don't like me because I'm more intelligent than they are and that I'm only barely a Half-Blood," Zack explained clinically, "I also seem to irritate them with my natural tone of voice along with my deadpan and truthful remarks about their persons. You are simply guilty by association."

"What about your other friends?" Lance asked, concerned, "Are they in trouble with the Slytherins too?"

"Of course not," Zack said, "Hodgins is a Slytherin like me, only he is Fourth Year. He is really the only one in my House that tolerates me and Hodgins' bi girlfriend doesn't mind me that much. Temperance is a Ravenclaw and everyone is too intimated by her knowledge and apparently flattering good looks to bother her. Also, she is – confusingly – good friends with some Gryffindor brute called Seeley. He is very popular and people listen to him when he says for people to not inconvenience Temperance."

Lance nodded and took in the new information.

"So, I should avoid all Slytherins unless they're you or your friend Hodgins?" He clarified.

"You should avoid Hodgins as well," Zack corrected, "He probably would not appreciate your company like I do on occasions and would attempt to pull a prank on you, most likely involving insects or dirt, or both, rather."

"Good to know," Lance said with an uncertain frown and resolved to stay away from the green colored House.

* * *

However, it wasn't because of Lance's resolve that he finally met up with a gang of Slytherins; it was more like foul luck and coincidental circumstance that threw them together.

Lance was walking down the hall, just passed Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, when he spotted a group of five Slytherins stalking down the hall. He eyed the girls' restroom but his decision came too slow.

"Hey, squirt!"

Lance eyed the Slytherins and determined that there were two Second Years and three Third Years among their jeering.

"I have to go," Lance said quickly.

"Why in such a hurry? Gotta meet the other freak in the library?" One Third Year boy taunted cruelly, "What do you even talk about? The freak just goes on and on about science and a bunch of other Muggle garbage."

"Science isn't Muggle garbage," Lance's mouth seemed to spill open of its own accord, "It can be applied to the Magical World too, I'm sure, if there were people who tried to do that. In fact, I'm sure there must be some position in the Ministry or St. Mungo's that does research on the subject."

The leader's face scrunched up while his followers seemed to look towards him for guidance.

"So, what? You know what I understood in that? That you're a freak too!" He whipped out his wand and muttered a spell.

Lance caught it and performed the counter-curse quickly, dropping several of his school books in the process.

"Ooh, Freak knows his spell work," One of the boys in the back of the pack taunted.

Lance stooped down and gathered his things and shoved them into his book bag, but he felt a spell catch him. His body was flipped upside down, held up by his ankles in the air as his robes fell down around his face. His pants were exposed, along with his dress shirt that was meticulously tucked inside the waist band.

The Slytherins crowed laughter and Lance's face burned in embarrassment.

"Let's go flying, eh?"

Lance's body started to move, controlled by the leader of the gang's wand levitating him.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" A loud voice boomed down the hall. The Slytherins tittered.

"Oh look, it's Gryffindor's own hero!" The bravado had mostly left the Slytherin's voice though, so Lance felt a measure of relief.

That was, until his savior decided to shoot a spell at the Slytherin holding Lance up into the air. The _levicorpus_ spell canceled out and Lance dropped to the stone floor faster than he could mutter a cushioning charm. He landed on his shoulder at an awkward angle; Lance heard something snap.

He could hear the Slytherins trampling away and then felt large hands on him, turning him over to his back.

"Hey, calm down, I'll get some help," A harried voice said gruffly, "Now, come on, I'm sure it's fine."

Lance blinked up and saw that Sixth Year boy who'd complained at his sorting in September.

Booth.

"I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey," Booth said and helped Lance to his feet. The First Year Hufflepuff winced and tendered touched his shoulder.

"It's dislocated," He diagnosed a moment later.

Booth opened his mouth - to ask how he knew, Lance was sure – but he closed it and shook his head.

"Let's go," He repeated.

A bit of a ways farther and Lance spoke up, "Thanks for helping me back there."

"It was no big deal," The gruff Sixth Year said.

"Really, it was a big deal to me," Lance insisted, "They would have flattened me. I didn't even do anything to them accept be friends with their house mate that they shunned, all because he's a lot smarter than them a bit socially awkward."

That made Booth pause momentarily before he started to walk again. "You know Zack?"

"Yeah," Lance said, surprised.

"He's my friend Bones' friend. She's in Sixth Year with me, but she met this little kid on the train who she said was a genius. He hangs out around her a lot and he sometimes talks about his little genius friend whose misguided."

"Misguided?" Lance asked, frowning.

"Said that you listen to feelings and watch the way people behave to figure stuff out about them instead of using facts, I don't know," Booth waved a hands dismissively.

"Oh," Lance murmured.

Booth shot him a look, but kept silent until they reached the Hospital Wing. "Here we are, see you, Sweets."

"See you," Lance waved halfheartedly with his good shoulder.


End file.
